


Lessons in Self-Care

by DennaSnape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon divergent post Voldemort's death, Casual Relationships - Freeform, Dom/sub, Draco/Harry/George is implied, Drarry, EWE, Flashbacks, Harry needs to shave, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Multi, Polyamory, Shaving Kink, The dead are still dead except Snape, mentions of disordered eating, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DennaSnape/pseuds/DennaSnape
Summary: Seven months after Voldemort's death and the students are back at Hogwarts to complete their N.E.W.T.s. Severus and Draco can't help but notice the Boy Wonder has really let himself go and they help him learn self-care.“And shave your goddamn face.”Harry's eyes drop to the floor in shame as his fingers graze his fuzzed cheek. Severus is sure the teen spoke but he didn't hear anything leave his lips.“What?”“I don't know how,”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/George Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 401





	Lessons in Self-Care

**Author's Note:**

> This was spawned by a strong vision of Harry having a shaving kink, so enjoy.

What was it about eighteen year old's that they didn't seem to understand the concept of shaving? Well, that isn't really true, Severus considers as he glares at the class working diligently on their potions. It was mid-December 1998, a bit over seven months have passed since the final fall of Voldemort, and the students have returned to complete their studies.

Draco stirs his potion evenly, his blond hair tucked behind his ear and his face smooth. Ron wasn't as graceful, but his face was also smooth. Blaise and Seamus the same, but Neville and Dean were a little scruffy, and Harry was a mess by Severus' standards. His brow furrows as he thinks about the teens, the smooth faced teen's all have fathers, Neville and Dean have parents of a kind, but Harry has nothing of the sort, no one to teach him to shave.

Severus wonders if the brunet teen has even considered shaving or if he was refusing in an act of rebellion. The boy-wonder had started acting out subtly through the beginning of the year, whether it was from PTSD or simply feeling that Hogwarts was useless at this point, Severus wasn't sure. He'd lost a lot of people in the war, countless bodies had been strewn through Hogwarts that fateful day, and Severus had almost been one, left for dead in the Shrieking Shack.

The Potions Master's eyes travel around the rest of the class coldly, he wasn't prepared to accept their apparent forgiveness after the war. Hermione meets his gaze and her hands shake slightly as she swallows hard, his glare was still as intimidating to her even now at nineteen as when she was eleven. He checks the time on his desk with a quick ' _Tempus_ ' and is glad to see there's just five more minutes of the class.

With a deep breath to steel himself, he strides around the class to mark their potions. Passable for the most part, even Neville has gotten within reasonable shade range. Yet, Harry has managed to make a deep violet potion when it should be orange.

“Unacceptable, Potter,” he snarls as he vanishes the potion. The class waits to pack their bags as the bell sounds and he dismisses them with a wave of his hand. “You'd do well to pick up the pace, Potter,” Harry takes his time packing away his things as Severus stands over his table. “And if you aren't in suitable uniform state on Monday, I _will_ give you a detention.” Clouded green eyes meet his black ones and the teen simply shrugs, a hand ruffling through his unruly hair as he slinks out of the room.

~

Harry waits until the other boy's are asleep before he slips on his Invisibility Cloak and makes his way to the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. He considers taking the Marauder's Map but opts not to, the idea of getting caught not high on his list of concerns. The list isn't long, and honestly, detentions aren't on it at all.

Hours pass as he sits in front of a mirror, staring with unfocused eyes at his reflection. Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion after the battle, restoring his vision to near perfect, eliminating the need for glasses. After knowing what kind of person his father had been he wanted less and less to do with the man, and his glasses were high on _that_ list. Finally he draws himself out of his mind, away from memories of his father and the other Marauder's being prats and he looks at himself.

What was it that Snape had said? If he wasn't in appropriate uniform he was getting a detention? He hasn't changed since the end of class and he rakes his eyes over his appearance. Everything seems to be as it should, albeit less crisp than it should be, his tie was maybe too loose. His fingers absently scratch through his mop of unruly brunet hair and travel to scratch his cheek.

He was finally starting to fill out, he realises as he notes the sharpness of his jaw has softened slightly. Years of disordered eating finally broken by no longer living with the Dursley's and never having the threat of going back has done wonders for his mental state. Slowly the fingers trail down his neck, still thin compared to more mature wizards, but thickening, his fingers squeeze the soft flesh and he draws in a stuttering breath.

Harry pauses as he reaches his tie, his eyes closing as he pictures Sirius in his fifth year, his tie similarly loose around his neck and he bites his lip as he slips it off. The crumpled shirt follows the tie, haphazardly thrown away from the large bathtub. He leans over slightly, his wand extended and he taps three of the faucets quickly, bubbles, hot water and aromatics filling the large tub as he stands. The clattering of his wand hitting the floor is quickly muffled as his pants are carelessly dropped and he stares at his reflection again.

His skin ripples as he lifts his arm to trace through the beginnings of chest hair and his fingers move quickly downwards, following the smattering of hair. He wonders briefly if Remus would have had a hairy chest and he allows his eyes to fall closed as he wraps a hand around his hardening penis. The sound of running water slows to a stop as the tub finishes filling and he forces himself to slide into the warm water, a groan of relief leaving his lips as he settles into a carved seat.

Harry's hand quickly resumes stroking his prick, the warm water and bubble mix making his skin tingle slightly as he closes his eyes again. What would it be like to rub his face against a hairy chest, to feel the undoubtedly soft hair against his cheeks? Remus was a wiry build, a lot of lean muscle and Harry isn't sure he would want that as much, maybe Sirius would have a softer body. He groans again, this time in desire. Thoughts of Sirius' form pressing against him making his cock swell in his hand. What would it be like to kiss his godfather? The older man leaning over him, their lips pressing together, a curtain of black hair swinging around them.

“Fuck!” Harry comes with a shout as his eyes snap open. His breathing doesn't even out as he sits in the cooling water and he stares straight ahead. He had been thinking of Sirius, definitely Sirius. It takes about fifteen minutes before he finally calms down enough that the idea of simply sliding under the water becomes a ludicrous idea and he makes his way out of the tub.

~

As he dresses on Monday morning he considers Snape's words again, the tone of his voice was so stern, and Harry wasn't in the mood to be told what to do anymore. He toys with his tie, part of him wanting to leave it untied, but that was so like James, he shudders and loops it into a loose knot. With a smirk he flicks his wand and shines his shoes slightly, there, he'd made _an effort_ to look presentable.

Watching the class file in for the first lesson on a Monday was always somewhat amusing to Severus. He was glad that he had the eighth year students rather than first or second years. Not that they were learning anything specifically different to the seventh years, they were still doing N.E.W.T.s, doing N.E.W.T.s for one grade usually caused Severus enough of a headache, let alone two, but Minerva had opted to keep the grades separated for ease. Somewhere along the grapevine he heard about Romilda Vane trying to slip Harry a Love Potion, and also the surprisingly quiet breakup of Harry and Ginny just after the war.

The students keep their heads down, eyes averted from the cold Potions Master's as he barks what page they needed to turn to and lets them know that they were to put their potions in stasis at the end of the lesson to complete on Friday. His eyes linger on Harry for a moment longer than he means to and he frowns. It seems like the teen is mocking him by showing up just as dishevelled as he was on Friday.

As the class comes to an end the students cast stasis spells over their cauldrons and pack away their things, waiting patiently as the bell rings. He dismisses them with a wave of his wand to open the door and the class files out.

“Potter, stay,” the brunet rolls his eyes as he steps from behind his desk to stand at the Potions Master's desk. “I told you to be in appropriate uniform, and you haven't even _tried_ to look presentable.”

“I shined my shoes for you,” Harry's lips curl into a smirk as Severus glances down.

“Detention, Wednesday after lunch,” his smirk turns to a sneer as he nods at the older man. “Dismissed.” There was that authoritarian voice again, he manages to keep his face impassive as he turns and leaves the classroom.

~

It was hard not to antagonise Severus. He knew the man had been on their side for the whole time basically, but old patterns were so hard to break. Also, Severus was still an absolute jerk in class and in the halls when Harry would run into him. Harry wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he still has nightmares about _that_ day, looking around at the bodies on the grounds, meeting Albus in limbo, Severus' memories pouring out of his eyes, ears and mouth as he waited for Nagini's poison to kill him, those black, black eyes staring into his soul.

He wakes with a start, his blood pounding in his ears as he tries to calm his breathing. With a flick of his wand he casts a quick ' _Tempus_ ' and groans when he sees it's four in the morning. Slowly he gets up, figuring he may as well go and have a fly, he's got detention after lunch and he was going to be difficult for the older man. That was one thing that was too much like James, and he could never seem to tame it, his hair. It always looks windswept and nothing he tries works.

He loses himself in flying for a couple of hours, the sharp winter air keeping him awake. As he drags himself out of memories of the war he realises he's not alone on the Quidditch pitch and he slows. With an air of curiosity he skims his bare toes along the frosted grass of the pitch as he approaches Draco.

“What are you doing out here, Malfoy?”

“Same as you, I assume.”

“I thought I would see their faces less by this point,” Harry admits as Draco settles on his own broom, the two of them ascending to the top of the grandstands together.

“So did I, and I wasn't in the thick of it,” the blond searches Harry's face as the brunet swallows hard. Harry looks defeated, his eyes lacking the glimmer of youthful hope he had once had. Although, as Draco thinks back, he never really had youthful hope, naïve hope, perhaps, but Harry had always been mature beyond his age.

The two have flown together a few times since the beginning of the school year, though this was the first time they've talked.

“I can't talk to Ron and Hermione about this,” his eyes don't meet Draco's and the Slytherin feels a pang of sadness for the Chosen One. “Ron lost a brother, flesh and blood. Hermione is closer to him, and can't handle my issues.”

“You lost people, Potter,” a blond brow raises as he realises Harry doesn't think he deserves to feel their loss. “Flesh and blood is one thing, but family isn't _just_ blood, and if your _friends_ think that's all that counts, they're full of shit.”

Harry's eyes snap to meet the grey of Draco and he pauses in shock. He's never heard Draco sound so comforting, and sharp all at the same time.

“You helped clear a lot of people's names, and _we're_ grateful, Harry.”

As quickly as the blond had appeared, he's gone again, his boots touching down with a soft crunch on the frosty ground and Harry watches him head towards the Slytherin changing rooms.

“Malfoy,” his voice cracks as he follows the other teen into the foreign change room.

“Merlin, Potter, are you trying to get sick?” Draco looks him up and down as he pauses in preparing to have a hot shower. Harry was standing in the doorway, his hair damp, chest red from the winter air and only wearing flannelette pyjama pants.

“I couldn't feel it,” he shrugs slightly. “Can you help me with my hair?” His face flushes red as he does his best not to run a hand through the mess.

“Get in the shower first, and then we can work out that atrocity,” the Slytherin taps the shower and steam rolls out of the communal bay. Harry steps out of his pyjamas and gingerly steps into the warm water, a hiss of pain slipping from his lips as the water hits his near frozen feet.

Draco shakes his head at the lack of shame the Gryffindor shows and he finishes undressing and grabs his toiletries.

“What do you use to wash your mop?” His voice is slightly dampened by the water flowing over them and Harry shrugs.

“I dunno, some two-in-one shit my aunt used to buy,” Draco's eyes widen in disgust and he can't stop the sneer appearing on his slim face.

“No, none of that, that stuff is why it's so wiry,” he squeezes dollop of shampoo into his palm and without thinking he reaches up to the brunet's hair. “How often do you wash it?” Another shrug, and a shiver as Draco's fingers work the shampoo through his hair.

“I dunno, every day maybe,” Harry whines softly as the hands withdraw and he dips his hair under the water to rinse the shampoo away.

“Less often is better,” another dollop of shampoo is applied to Harry's hair and his eyes close as Draco lathers it. Short nails scratching his scalp slightly and long fingers wind into his hair to tug his head back to rinse the lather away. “I'll get you some of this if it works,” his voice is low as he begins running conditioner through the clean hair, his fingers massaging the Gryffindor's scalp.

Harry does his best not to melt beneath the skilled fingers of the blond, his knees threaten to give way as Draco increases the pressure of his massage and he moans slightly.

“Merlin, Potter,” green eyes open to look at the Slytherin and Draco bites his lip at the look of hunger on the other teen's face. Their lips meet in a slippery kiss and Harry presses the blond against the wall. Groans echo off the walls as they rock together. Their hands trailing over each others bodies, fingers fumbling as they stroke one another to a quick orgasm.

They finish showering quietly and dry off with a quick spell. “Don't brush it after it dries,” Draco chides as he brushes through the still damp hair of the brunet and Harry frowns. “I know it's hard to resist ruffling it, but that just encourages frizz.”

“Thanks,” he mutters as Draco hands him a transfigured robe.

~

That afternoon Harry makes his way to the Dungeons, the transfigured robe still around his shoulders as he spots Draco ahead of him and he considers calling out.

“Yes, Potter?” The blond arches a brow as Harry realises he must have spoken. He blushes as he shoves the robe towards the Slytherin and Draco smirks. “Wonderful, that was my favourite scarf,” straight teeth drag his lower lip into a bite and Harry flushes brighter.

“I should get to detention,” he finally manages to break away from looking at Draco's lips. If the blond is surprised by the flicker of the green eyes to the door to the potions classroom he doesn't show it.

“I'm going flying on Friday morning, I'll give you some hair stuff then,” his grey eyes trail over the more relaxed hair of the Gryffindor and Harry nods that he would meet the Slytherin on Friday.

“Potter,” the deep voice of Severus draws Harry's attention and Draco slips off quietly. With a sigh Harry enters the classroom as Severus holds the door open. “Where's your robe?”

“Didn't feel like wearing one,” his shoulders raise and drop in a halfhearted shrug.

“There is an image to uphold as a Hogwarts student,” Severus sneers as he watches the teen lean casually against his desk. “Uniforms should be clean and pressed, which I know the Elves do, so why is yours always crumpled?”

“Because I'm not the most peaceful sleeper,” green eyes flicker to the ceiling as he speaks. He wasn't prepared to admit to having nightmares.

“ _Rigidas_ ,” the Potions Master flicks his wand at the teen and his uniform presses itself. “I will admit at least you have managed to somewhat tame your hair,” Harry fights the urge to run his hand through said hair, Draco's scolding fresh in his mind.

“Do up your tie properly,” dark eyes focus on the loose tie and Harry's hands twitch before staying at his sides. With another flick of his wand the tie loops around itself and tightens correctly around the teen's neck. “And shave your goddamn face.”

Harry's eyes drop to the floor in shame as his fingers graze his fuzzed cheek. Severus is sure the teen spoke but he didn't hear anything leave his lips.

“What?”

“I don't know how,” his voice comes out smaller than Severus can ever remember the teen sounding.

Harry's cheeks burn as he glances at himself in the mirror of the Potions Masters bathroom. His fingers grip the sink as Severus lays out a razor, brush and a dish of cream.

“Soak the towel in hot water and hold it to your face,” the older man leans against the far wall and watches as Harry's hands shake slightly. To his credit the teen follows the order well enough, holding the towel on his face until Severus nods. “Now, soak the brush and work it into the cream,” he pauses as Harry does so. “And apply the cream to your face, using circular motions to create a lather.”

The Gryffindor feels ridiculous as he watches his reflection, a foamy white beard being applied to his face. “Pick up the razor,” Severus is glad that he's given the teen a safety razor to start, usually he would use a straight razor, but the slight tremble of the teen's hand assures him that would be a bad plan. “Go with the growth of the hair, down your cheeks. If there's not cream do not shave over it.”

He watches the teen shave his face, more and more smooth skin appearing as the lather is removed along with the patchy hair. “Now you can rinse off the rest of the cream with cold water,” the teen shivers at how cold the towel feels. “Final step, aftershave to keep the skin hydrated and to help heal any nicks,” a small bottle is handed to him and he dabs a small amount over his jaw.

“There, you are now in a much better state of uniform.” Severus states as he directs Harry back out of his private rooms and into the classroom. “I expect to see this level of care taken with your appearance from here on,” his wand points to the door and it springs open in dismissal.

~

When Harry wakes up the next morning he's not surprised to feel the patchy fuzz of facial hair back. Even as a child he had always ended up looking the same after an unwanted haircut, his aunt giving up after the third or fourth attempt. As he looks at himself in the mirror of the bathroom he realises his hair is still sitting mostly managed, admittedly it was longer than it had been in years, closer to his fourth year so the weight was certainly helping.

The final class of the day was Defence, and Harry wasn't enjoying it as much as he used to. Partly from guilt, but mostly because it was being covered for the year by Bill Weasley. The eldest Weasley had immense knowledge in curse breaking so they were learning a lot about that, but Harry wasn't entirely sure the man wanted to be teaching, but he had done it for Minerva.

Harry didn't pay too much attention to the class, his mind often drawn into memories of the war during Defence classes, and this lesson was no different. It feels like an eternity passes before the bell rings and the class scurries out. As was his norm, Harry slowly makes his way from the room, leaving Ron to talk to his brother with Hermione. They'd become more distant in the seven months post war, and Harry didn't find himself minding too much, they were set to head to Auror training next year, and Harry, well... Minerva had mentioned that the Defence position would be open.

He settles onto his bed, not feeling particularly hungry as a wave of apathy washes over him. It was a regular enough feeling, hopelessness and loneliness rolling over him. Feeling the prickle of sleep approaching he rolls over, his hand loosely holding his wand under his pillow and he allows the nightmares to come.

He wakes with a strangled gasp as images of those who died flash before his eyes. A quick ' _Tempus_ ' shows it's nearing six am and he rolls out of bed silently. Bleary eyed he makes his way to the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand and he spots a familiar blond head coming up from the Dungeons as he gets to the Entrance Hall.

“Christ, Potter,” Draco sighs as he realises Harry was only in his pyjama bottoms again. “I figured you would already be down there, so I had this for after, but take it now,” he pushes a black lump towards the brunet and Harry takes it with a confused stare. The blond takes the Firebolt from Harry as the lump is shaken to reveal a warm cloak.

“Why?”

“You keep wondering around only in pants,” the Slytherin's eyes sweep down the other teen's body appreciatively. “I know you can afford a cloak, but I figured maybe you didn't care for the simple ones they sell at Madam Malkin's.”

“The shampoo and conditioner are shrunk in a box in the pocket,” he adds as Harry fastens the cloak around his shoulders, his fingers slipping along the understated trim. “I went with just black so it would match anything you wanted to wear it with.”

“Mrs Weasley is the only person who's ever given me something warm,” Harry doesn't meet Draco's eyes as they continue to the pitch. The cloak is heavy and warm, yet it ripples in the breeze as they walk, making Harry think it was charmed.

“I also opted for the magical closure so there wouldn't be a hard button or toggle, so you can use it as a blanket if so desired,” Draco isn't sure why he can't stop talking as they get to the edge of the pitch. “Your hair still looks good, I imagine after we fly it'll be a bloody mess,” he pauses at the doorway to the Slytherin change room as Harry reaches to release the cloak.

“Maybe we don't fly then,” the Gryffindor steps towards Draco and he backs into the change rooms. With a quick flick of his wrist the cloak drops to the ground, his pyjama pants following suit and Draco's mouth waters.

“Good plan,” his fingers stumble to push his own clothes off as Harry reaches to help. Their lips meet roughly as the brunet grasps the blond's hair, pulling him closer as he leads them to a wall. Draco gasps as his back hits the wall and Harry's tongue presses into his mouth, their desire building.

He feels more confident this time as his hand wraps around the Slytherin's prick, stroking it firmly. There's no further words spoken between the two as they jerk each other off, their kiss breaking only enough for Draco to bite down the Gryffindor's throat, making him moan. Harry's free hand returns to grasp the blond locks and pull his head back forcefully so he can return the favour, teeth sinking into the pale flesh making Draco whimper as he comes, Harry following closely behind.

“Thanks,” he smooths his hands over the cloak as he wraps it around his shoulders again before making his way back to the Castle. Draco shakes his head as he dresses, following after the Gryffindor slowly.

~

Harry stares at his reflection in Myrtle's bathroom, he considers his crumpled uniform and he flicks his wand, crisping his shirt. He reaches up and loosens his tie, his fingers popping the top button of the pressed shirt. If he was going to make an effort to have his uniform somewhat proper he was also going to make sure he was making other parts improper.

Severus glares as the class files in, no words spoken as they resume their potions from Monday. His eyes travel over Harry's uniform, his shirt was pressed, but his slacks were still crumpled, and his shoes have become scuffed again. The casually loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt make Severus look twice and he frowns. Slowly the dark eyes of the Potions Master travel upwards from the glimpse of softly haired chest to a face that looked like it hadn't been shaved just two days ago. At least his hair was still somewhat presentable.

Harry tucks his hair behind his ear absently as he works on his potion, his brow furrowing in concentration. He knew he was pushing the older mans buttons, and honestly it was fun. The tension between the two of them was almost palpable as Severus manages to tear his eyes away from the scruffy teen to glare at the rest of the class.

The Gryffindor saw the straight razor in the Potions Master's cupboard when he had gotten the tools out for him to shave on Wednesday, and Harry was intrigued. He had seen straight razor shaves offered in Muggle barbershops but he had never gone to get one. Something about the razor was tantalising, but he's terrified to try it on himself.

With a sneer Severus stands and walks around the classroom with his clipboard, marking each student's potion. He doesn't trust his voice to not come out in a snarl so he simply points to the door as he marks each student off, the teens more than happy to rush out of the room. Harry leans casually against the wall next to his seat as Severus slowly moves through the rest of the class, he knows he's going to get in trouble, and he's ready.

If Severus is shocked to see the Gryffindor's cauldron at a passable level he manages not to show it, the skill of an impassive mask coming in useful.

“Am I dismissed?”

“Is your uniform up to standard?” A dark brow raises in return to the brunet's question and Harry's lip quirks.

“I pressed my shirt?”

“Your tie is sloppy.”

“It's too restrictive,” he bites his lip as the words come out without meaning to.

“You haven't shaved.”

“I don't have a razor,” Severus sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Wait here,” his voice is heavy as he leaves the classroom through the backdoor. Harry knew that lead towards his private rooms and he's tempted to follow the older man. Instead he pushes himself off the wall and perches on the edge of the Potions Master's desk.

“I rarely make an effort of giving gifts, but Yule is a week away,” his voice stops abruptly as he sees the teen on his desk so casually. “If you haven't tidied yourself up for Yule, then I will be giving you another detention,” he thrusts the gift into Harry's hands and the teen smirks.

~

The following day Harry is glad to watch most of the other students leave Hogwarts to spend Yule with their families. He notices that Draco doesn't head home, leaving them the only two eighth years left behind. Grimmauld Place was available for him to go, but the house was still used as a meeting hub for the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix and Harry didn't want to be around the Yule cheer for two weeks.

The Castle hums with magic and he cringes as he passes a suit of armour and it begins singing a Christmas carol. Minerva isn't as over the top as Albus, but she always aims to make the school feel as welcoming as it used to. Neither Ron nor Hermione had seemed to notice his new cloak and he was glad to not have to explain himself to them. Though honestly he wasn't sure what the explanation would be.

He spends the afternoon wandering the halls, no particular thought in his mind except that with barely anyone in the school he could finally feel free. Was that a good thing though? The thought pops into his head unexpectedly as he passes the Great Hall and he looks in, but he doesn't see it decked out in Yule decorations, instead he sees it as a makeshift hospital. He rushes out the front doors to the grounds and his head spins as he sees his friends, members of the Order, Death Eaters, strewn across the snow.

No matter where he turns he can see death, patches of snow turning red as blood spreads from faceless bodies. He's sure he's screaming as he falls to his knees, the snow seeping into his too large jeans as he panics. Even as his breathing evens out he can't hear anything except the rush of spells flying in the air, beams of light flashing around his head. Before he can register it, he's sobbing, his hands winding tightly into his hair and his eyes squeezing closed.

“Potter?” The startled voice of Draco barely infiltrates his mind. “Harry, Merlin's sake,” warm hands cover his in his hair and gently untangle them. He's sure if he hadn't been wearing the cloak he would be shivering, and Draco is grateful the Gryffindor wasn't too pigheaded to wear it.

“Let's get you up,” the blond tries to help him stand but Harry can't find the energy to move and he collapses in on himself, his sobs intensifying. “Shit,” Draco mutters as he plops down on the ground and pulls Harry towards himself. He allows himself to be held against the Slytherin as he cries, tears of anguish spilling down his cheeks and the blond spells the area warm so the tears don't freeze.

Finally Harry's breathing settles, his hands tightly gripping the Slytherin's robes as he relaxes. Draco keeps holding him tightly, a hand gently patting the brunet hair, and softly whispering words of comfort. He waits until he's sure that Harry is asleep and he levitates him, but when Harry doesn't release his robes he sighs and moves his hands to cradle the Gryffindor in his arms. Where exactly was he supposed to put the Saviour of the Wizarding World, he wonders and heads to his Common Room, figuring with his empty room no one would know the teen was there.

It's after dinner before Harry wakes up, still cradled in Draco's arms as the blond leans against his head board. Draco startles as he realises Harry is looking up at him and the brunet flushes in embarrassment.

“Oh, god, I'm sorry,” his voice cracks as he moves to pull away from the Slytherin.

“Don't be sorry,” Draco holds him tightly as he struggles slightly. “Are you feeling better? Dinner's already passed, I didn't want to wake you,” he explains as Harry relaxes into chest again.

“You must think I'm a headcase,” he wipes his face with the back of his hand as he recalls crying.

“I'm actually kind of amazed that you haven't fallen apart before now,” the blond runs a hand through Harry's hair softly.

“Never when there's people around, no one's seen it, they don't need to, they don't care,” the words break Draco's heart a bit.

“Is that why you keep on acting out? Trying to show the perfect Saviour is in fact, not okay?”

“I...” Harry's breathing hitches as he looks up at the blond. “People only care when I'm pissing them off,” he shrugs slightly and Draco rolls his eyes.

“Snape was pissed at you on Friday alright,” he'd noticed the tension in the room. Severus was his godfather and he knew the man very well, his ticks and Draco could often read his emotions to a degree. “You haven't pissed me off lately.”

“Walking around only in pants, aside?” Harry quips as he opens his cloak to show he only had jeans on under it. Grey eyes flicker down his chest as the cloak is pushed aside. “The warming charm is very effective.”

Their lips meet in a hurried kiss and Harry turns to straddle the blond's thigh, his hands pushing Draco's own cloak off. They rut against each other like that, no more clothes shed as their orgasms approach.

“Wash your hair tonight,” Draco directs as he walks Harry out of the Slytherin Dormitory, thankfully not meeting anyone in the Common Room. “See you around, Potter, and go get something to eat.” The wall closes seamlessly behind the Gryffindor and he makes his way to the kitchens for a quick dinner.

~

Monday morning Minerva passes him in the Great Hall and tells him that Hogsmeade was open to him if he wishes to get off the school grounds and he wonders as Severus passes Draco, whether the blond was receiving the same information. Grey eyes meet his across the hall and the blond barely tilts his head to the side and Harry nods.

The cloak is quite marvellous, he has to admit as he feels the invisibility cloak tucked into a pocket in it. There was space for the cloak, his money pouch and probably for other odds and ends, and as he looks in a mirror in the Entrance Hall it looks like there's nothing in it. Draco isn't sure if Harry is going to wait for him as he makes his way to the Thestrals, but as he gets in the first carriage he's pleasantly surprised to find the brunet.

“Friends then?” He offers his hand to Harry in a truce, there was something about the Gryffindor's body language that suggested their meetings weren't exactly relationship material.

“Giving each other hand jobs didn't give that much away?” Harry raises a brow as he grasps Draco's hand firmly.

“I'm not the most possessive man out there,” the blond shrugs slightly as the carriage trundles towards the village. “A bit of play doesn't mean anything specific, unless you want it to.”

“Friends is probably the safest way to ensure the Wizarding World doesn't fall apart,” he doesn't particularly care, but being friends with a Slytherin would cause enough of a stir without them being _an item_.

“Anything you want to do in Hogsmeade?” Draco doesn't have anything in mind and he imagines the Gryffindor doesn't either as they walk into the snowy village.

“I just didn't want to be in the Castle,” Harry admits sheepishly. He's glad that Draco is here with him. “I also need to look at buying new clothes,” he looks at the ground as his cheeks burn. Most of his clothes are still Dudley hand-me-downs and he's ashamed of how they look.

“Yeah, those jeans the other day were atrocious,” Draco agrees and heads towards the fashion district. “I'm fairly certain that there is a Muggle town about a twenty minute walk from here, if you don't just want robes?”

“Probably best not to Apparate, I guess,” Harry glances into the stores as they pass and Draco nods. “You're happy to just break the rules and keep walking out of Hogsmeade?” Other than his uniform Harry hasn't been getting in trouble, despite months of trying.

“Am I stepping on your toes, Mister Rule-Breaker?” The blond turns to grin at the brunet and Harry licks his lips. “Would you like to glamour me so Muggle's don't think I'm a freak?” His wand is in his hand before Draco finishes his sentence and he makes it look like he was in jeans and a jumper. Before the blond can return the favour he shrinks the cloak down and shoves it in a pocket.

“I have a little bit of Muggle money, my parents vault had both in it, I guess because mum was Muggleborn,” he hadn't anticipated using said funds while around anyone, let alone a Slytherin.

“Smart woman,” Draco smiles softly as they continue down the road and out of Hogsmeade. The Muggle town is only about a fifteen minute walk for the two teen's and they glance around furtively as they make their way through the cobblestone streets.

“I guess this is fine,” Harry shrugs as they pass a Primark and Draco looks thoroughly unsure as they enter. “I guess you'd have no clue,” he covers his laughter with a cough and Draco glares at him slightly.

“Here I was being nice,” the Slytherin hisses and Harry grins at him. They spend a good while wandering the aisles, Draco occasionally grabbing something and handing it to Harry and eventually he takes the clothes to try them on.

As he tries on outfits Draco critiques things, suggests alternative pairings and generally decides what Harry would be buying. The Gryffindor ends up with a healthy pile of clothes to buy and they make their way to the register. After leaving the store Draco pushes Harry towards a public bathroom.

“Green sweater and black jeans, hurry up,” he grabs the other bags and waits for Harry to reappear. “Keep those _things_ in a bag, we're burning them when we get back,” his sneering tone is cut short as he gets a proper look at the Gryffindor.

Harry bites his lip as he watches Draco's eyes flit over him and he closes the gap between them, lips pressing together.

“Gods, Potter,” he groans. “You look good,” they part reluctantly as they realise they should make their way back to Hogsmeade before they get caught.

“Shall we get some lunch?” The two teens head to the Three Broomsticks and settle into a booth. Draco can't tear his eyes away from Harry as he appreciates the new clothes.

“So, you and the Weaslette,” he does his best to sound casual and Harry raises a brow at him.

“Yes?”

“Just curious,” Harry doesn't completely believe him.

“I would love to say I dumped her,” he swallows. “But after all those years, I wasn't alluring anymore. No longer the Saviour, no longer interesting. No future, also a bit too gay,” he shrugs.

“Did she know?” Harry thinks about the question for a moment before he shrugs again.

“I dunno, actually, but I guess all my work to clear people gave that impression.” It had been hard work to get the Ministry to listen and pardon Severus and the Malfoy family. Harry had worked around the clock, showing up to the Ministry every day, holding fast in his testimony. He received dose after dose of Veritaserum, he allowed his memories to be viewed again and again. And finally they had been cleared.

“Yet after all that, you avoid us constantly.”

“Yes, I'm avoiding you right now.”

“Have you spoken to Snape?”

“No.” A wave of emotion threatens to overwhelm him as he recalls the ex-Death Eater's horror at finding out Harry had to die.

“McGonagall was saying that she and Snape wouldn't be at Hogwarts on Christmas Day,” Draco changes the subject. “Well, a notice appeared on the board in the Common Room, but it was her handwriting.”

“Yeah, something about a Yule lunch at the Headquarters of the Order,” he sighs and picks at his plate of food. “I have to go too, I think we leave not long after breakfast.”

“Do you think they'd let me come?” Harry wasn't used to such an unsure voice coming from the Slytherin and he meets the grey eyes with a soft smile.

“Yeah, I'll tell McGonagall on Christmas Eve,” he nods and he's glad to see the relief on the blond's face.

~

Harry wakes with a start on Christmas Eve, his sheets tented and he groans. A wave of relief surges through him as he realises that he's alone in the room and he grasps his prick tightly. His mind is filled with memories of he and Draco sneaking around the Castle to make out. They'd met in the Prefect's bathroom last night and enjoyed making out in the warm bath. Draco seemed to know more about Harry than the brunet did but he wasn't speaking up.

The Castle's inhabitants have gotten over the shock of the two eating meals together and Minerva isn't surprised when Harry loitered in the hall after the Christmas Eve dinner.

“Headmistress,” his smile is charming as the older witch steps down from the Head Table.

“Mister Potter,” she nods, happy the teen had been laughing during the evening.

“Is it ok if Malfoy comes to the Order Christmas tomorrow?”

“Of course, we're leaving from my office at eleven am,” Harry nods as she leaves the Great Hall. They still didn't use each others first names often, years of habit hard to break.

He leaves the Great Hall, a smile on his face as he realises Draco would be there tomorrow.

“Potter,” the sharp voice of Severus cuts into his thoughts and he turns to face the older man. “I told you to be shaved by Yule, did I not?”

“Yeah,” the teen shrugs as Severus steps closer.

“Follow me,” his lip curls as he passes Harry and he strides towards his rooms. He doesn't bother looking back to ensure the Gryffindor is following him, he just holds the door open long enough for Harry to enter.

“I gave you the razor, I told you how to use it,” his voice is exasperated as Harry looks at him in indifference.

“Can't be bothered,” another shrug and Severus glares at him. “I'd rather a straight razor shave.”

“Can you be trusted with a straight razor?”

“You do it then,” there goes his Gryffindor boldness. Severus takes a step forward and looms over the teen. He conjures a hot towel and holds it to his face as he raises a brow at the older man.

Severus sneers as he opens the cupboard to pull out the equipment needed. Long fingers delicately holding the razor as he strops it.

“Lather your face,” Harry vanishes the towel and swirls the brush into the cream and lathers his face. Green eyes meet black as he turns his head to the side, the submissive motion not lost on Severus and he grasps the teen's cheek firmly.

“Stay still, Potter,” his breath tickles Harry's ear as the razor is dragged down his cheek. Every stroke of the razor feels devine on Harry's skin and his eyes droop closed as he enjoys himself. Severus does his best to ignore the look of pleasure on the teen's face as his fingers dig in harder, tilting Harry's head back and baring his throat.

“Careful,” barely a whisper as Harry swallows at the feeling of the blade running first down, then up his throat. “I've got you at my mercy,” a gasp breaks free of the teen's lips and Severus has to close his eyes to get himself under control. He gently sets the razor on the sink and takes a step back.

“Rinse and aftershave,” he turns away as the teen groggily opens his eyes and follows the order. “Better,” the door opens and Harry leaves quickly, his pants tight and he does his best to think of anyone else as he jerks off before he falls asleep.

~

Harry wakes up the next morning and stretches, no nightmares, no wet dreams. His hand rubs over his face and he's shocked to feel the fuzz there after Severus shaved him last night. The Potions Master is going to be pissed.

He dresses casually and fastens his cloak around his shoulders as he heads to the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco is already there and looking worried as the Gryffindor slides into the seat next to him.

“We're leaving from McGonagall's office at eleven,” he smiles at the Slytherin and a look of relief washes over his face.

“Snape's gonna be pissed,” the blond rubs a hand over his own smooth cheek and Harry flushes.

“He made me shave last night,” half a lie, but Harry couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. Draco grins in disbelief as Harry focuses on his breakfast. He can feel the eyes of the Potions Master on him and he does his best not to look up.

“Yeah,” Draco glances to the Head Table and bites his lip. “He's _pissed_.”

“Good,” Harry's voice is barely able to be heard over the noise of the hall and Draco shakes his head. “I should probably go wash my hair,” he pushes away from the table and Draco watches him leave with an air of amusement. Severus stands moments later and follows the brunet from the hall and Draco opts to wait in the hall a little longer.

“Potter,” he catches up to the teen easily. If he didn't know better he would think the teen was deliberately loitering. “Come,” his voice is commanding and Harry follows him willingly.

A hot towel is pressed into his hands as Severus strops the razor again, his eyes meeting the teen's in the mirror. The Potions Master grabs the brush before Harry can and he lathers the Gryffindor's face quickly before grabbing the razor.

Long fingers dig into Harry's cheek firmly and he has to bite back a small gasp as Severus runs the razor down his face. By the third stroke his eyes have fluttered closed and his cock is straining against his fly. The older man watches the teen's reactions, his own prick beginning to swell as Harry lets out a moan as the razor grazes over his lip.

“Still,” is growled as Severus grasps his hair to pull his head back. Harry does his best not to shiver and Severus waits for the movement to stop before the razor slides down the Gryffindor's throat. “Is this what you want, Potter?” The warm breath on his ear makes him whimper as the razor passes under his chin.

“You need someone to baby you,” another whimper escapes his lips as the razor makes its final pass over his throat. He hears the razor get placed on the sink and he moves to rinse his face only to have his hair pulled back tighter.

“Oh no, I think we're going to go for the full shave today, with, across, against,” his knees almost give out as the brush lathers the cream on his face again. Can he survive two more rounds of this torture? Severus doesn't give him the chance to refuse as the razor meets his skin again, dragging across his cheek.

“Good boy,” he mewls at the praise and he tries to open his eyes. But each pass of the razor keeps him too on edge to manage it, his skin tingles in the wake of the blade. Harry grasps the edge of the sink as the razor is run across his throat and he does his best to keep his breathing even.

“And now, against,” he finally manages to open his eyes as the lather is applied for the third time. A groan escapes his lips before he can stop it as he meets the Potions Master's hungry gaze and he bites his lip.

As the razor scrapes against his skin he fights to keep his eyes open, watching the eyes of the older man follow the razor over his flesh. His hand slips from the edge of the sink and presses against his erection as Severus tugs his head back again and he cries out softly.

“Good boy,” the lips dance close to his ear as the razor slides up his throat. Unable to see the mirror clearly he allows his eyes to close again as he palms his cock through his pants. Surely Severus knew he was erect, hopefully he wouldn't say anything.

“That must be painful,” Harry whimpers at the knowing tone and he makes a noise of affirmation. “Take it out,” his fingers stumble to obey the husky order and he pulls his cock out of his pants. His breathing hitches at the relief and he curls his fingers around it.

“Good boy,” the hand in his hair tugs harshly, exposing his neck again. This time the lips do meet his ear, teeth nipping along the shell as the razor passes up his thoat again. The final pass of the razor up his throat has his toes curling as the sharp teeth pull his earlobe.

“Fuck!” Harry cries out as he orgasms, and he presses back to feel a similar hardness. There's a click as the razor is set down and a cold towel is dragged over his face. Severus dabs the aftershave on his jaw and Harry's eyes spring open.

“Oh, god,” he whimpers as the reality of the situation hits and he turns to face the older man.

“See you at eleven, Potter,” Severus opens the door to the bathroom as Harry tucks himself back into his pants with a quick cleaning spell and the teen rushes past him.

~

He spends around an hour in the shower, washing his hair and scrubbing his body. Then he spends what feels like an eternity pacing in his room, contemplating how Severus was going to murder him. With a heavy sigh he grabs out a dark green button down and a pair of black jeans, recalling the positive reaction Draco had to the colour combo.

As he looks at himself in the mirror he can understand the reaction and he grins. If he is going to be murdered at least he looks hot. He fastens the cloak the blond gave him around his shoulders, he wants to ensure this look gets the appreciation it deserves, and he heads to Minerva's office.

Draco is waiting outside the Gargoyle, his fingers twisting into his cloak and relief blooms across his face as Harry greets him. They step onto the spiralling staircase and the brunet presses a soft kiss to the Slytherin's cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he smiles as they're delivered outside the Headmistress' door.

“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy,” Minerva's tone is warm as the teen's enter to find Severus already there. The Potions Master doesn't look at the two as Minerva hold the Floo powder box out to them. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” she says clearly and she disappears in a lick of green flames.

“You go next, Mister Malfoy,” Severus allows the blond to step into the hearth and he follows Minerva to Grimmauld Place. “Potter,” dark eyes don't move from the ground and Harry steps into the fire, spinning through to Grimmauld Place and moments later the Potions Master steps through.

“While we wait for lunch to be prepared we're meeting with the other's in the Sitting Room,” the Headmistress leads them down to the well appointed room. Couches line the walls and chairs intersect the room splitting it into multiple conversation nooks. Harry is slightly dismayed to see Ron and Hermione are already there, talking to the other Weasley's and a few Order members.

“What's the ferret doing here?” Ron's voice immediately gets on Harry's nerves and he steps forward.

“He has as much right as you do to be here,” the two previous best friends stare at each other until Minerva clears her throat.

“Mister Malfoy is here as my guest,” she points to a seat adjacent to Ron so they wouldn't be staring at each other. Severus takes a seat in an armchair around the coffee table from the Slytherin.

Harry waits until both Slytherin's are settled and Ron has leaned back in his seat before he moves to remove his cloak. He can feel eyes on him as the heavy fabric is tossed casually over the back of the couch and he drops to sit next to Draco. The blond raises his brows in appreciation as he takes in the purposefully dishevelled appearance. Two buttons of the deep green shirt undone, the fabric pressed well, and tucked into fitted black jeans. Dark socks barely peeking out at his ankles and a pair of new leather shoes cross as he gets comfortable. He folds the sleeves up as he turns to glance around the room.

“I see,” Ron spits as he takes in the colour of the shirt. Harry continues looking around, Draco's reaction was nice, but he was most interested in that of the Potions Master. As his green eyes meet the coal black of the older man he's sure that time stops. No one notices the moment as Ron drags Hermione out of the room.

Severus knows he's staring, but everything about the Gryffindor is singing to him. His hair laying mostly tame, the glimpse of sparse hair on the toned chest, the tight pants. But most of all that smooth face. As the red head drags his girlfriend out of the room he manages to tear his eyes away, but not before Harry bites his lip.

Draco smirks slightly at the man's reaction and he pinches Harry's cheek.

“Smooth, like a baby's butt,” George snorts into his mug of Eggnog and Draco turns to him. “What? He's been looking a bit feral this year,” his tone isn't truly offended and the twin wipes his lip.

“Bill might've said Hagrid appeared to have another beast,” blue eyes twinkle slightly as the twin feels a twinge of joy. “Sorry that Ron's such a prat,” the room stills as the two speak like their familes weren't old nemisis.

“I assume he's just jealous that Potter turned up with a hot blond,” grey eyes flicker to Severus and the Potions Master raises a brow. George lifts his mug in front of his face to hide his grin as Harry blushes.

“I'm a little jealous myself, did you teach him how to make his hair sit flat?” His fingers twitch but he manages not to run a hand through his hair. Draco winks at the twin and Bill and Charlie do their best to distract themselves from the conversation next to them.

“I'm right here, Malfoy,” Harry tries to sound affronted at the blond all but flirting with the Weasley twin.

“Lunch,” Minerva calls from the doorway and the Order members leave the room. Severus stays in his seat as George and Draco stare at each other, and Harry glances to the older man.

“I told you I'm not possessive, Potter,” grey eyes snap to the Chosen One and he lazily drags a finger down his face. “I certainly didn't teach you how to shave.” Harry's eyes remain fixed on Severus and Draco replaces the finger with his lips. George watches as the blond kisses along the brunet's jaw, his eyes darting over the Potions Master's face to gauge his reaction.

“Mister Weasley, I think you should leave,” Severus' first words startle the red head. George shakes his head as Draco nips Harry's chin when the brunet doesn't move. “He was warned if he didn't clean himself up, he would be punished,” the Potions Master reaches to grasp Harry's jaw and he pulls him out of Draco's range.

“He's not going to allow himself to fall into such a state again is he?” Black eyes stare into green as Harry shakes his head as much as he can in Severus' tight grip.

“See you in the kitchen, Potter, dearest,” Draco stands up and extends his hand to the twin. “Should we give your brother an aneurysm?” George nods absently as he watches the tension between the two growing.

The moment the door clicks behind them Severus lunges forward and presses his lips to the teen's. Their teeth click together and a large hand pushes under the edge of his shirt before moving to grip his throat. Severus presses open mouthed kisses along Harry's jaw, mimicking Draco's languid movements hungrily. His teeth bite into the soft flesh under the teen's ear and Harry whimpers.

“Perhaps you should stay back after class on Friday's so I can shave you. I don't think I could deal with you being so deliciously well presented all the time.”

“Yes, sir, please,” he moans as the Potions Master pulls back.

“If we do not head down to lunch now, we _will_ miss it,” Severus has never shown so much emotion. “Now, unless red hair is a turn off for you, you should join Draco,” Harry nods and grabs his cloak as he leaves the Sitting Room.

“Oh,” he can't stop the noise of surprise as he spots Draco and George just next to the door.

“Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to steal your boyfriend,” George winks.

“Share and share alike,” Harry licks his lips as he surveys the blond. “Shall we?” Draco loops his arm through Harry's and George's and the three of them head to the kitchen. Severus waits in the Sitting Room for a few minutes to calm down. He smirks as he enters the kitchen to see Ron red faced and fuming at the three at the end of the table.

~

True to his word, or rather nod, Harry stays in the Dungeons after Potions on a Friday. Usually he was seen leaving the classroom with Draco, then he would slip back into the Potions Master's rooms. Severus was glad for the teen's discretion. Not that he hadn't enjoyed the rumours of Draco breaking Harry's heart when the blond was seen with George. But he was glad when the three were spotted together so he could continue to enjoy shaving the Saviour of the Wizarding World.


End file.
